Crag said dryly. "We all have." He acknowledged the introductions with the distinct feeling that he already knew each member of his crew. It was the odd feeling of meeting old acquaintances after long years of separation. As part of his indoctrination he had studied the personnel records of the men he might be so dependent on. Now, seeing them in the flesh, was merely an act of giving life to those selfsame records. He studied them with casual eyes while Gotch rambled toward an awkward farewell. Max Prochaska, his electronics chief, was a slender man with sparse brown hair, a thin acquiline nose and pointed jaw. His pale blue eyes, thin lips and alabaster skin gave him a delicate look--one belied by his record. His chief asset--if one was to believe the record--was that he was a genius in electronics. Gordon Nagel, too, was, thin-faced and pallid skinned. His black hair, normally long and wavy, had been close-cropped. His eyes were small, shifting, agate-black, giving Crag the feeling that he was uneasy--an impression he was to hold. His record had described him as nervous in manner but his psychograph was smooth. He was an expert in oxygen systems. Martin Larkwell, the mechanical maintenance and construction boss, in many ways appeared the antithesis of his two companions. He was moon-faced, dark, with short brown hair and a deceptively sleepy look. His round body was well-muscled, his hands big and square. Crag thought of a sleek drowsy cat, until he saw his eyes. They were sparkling brown pools, glittering, moving with some strange inner fire. They were the eyes of a dreamer ... or a fanatic, he thought. In the cabin's soft light they glowed, flickered. No, there was nothing sleepy about him, he decided. All of the men were short, light, in their early thirties. In contrast Crag, at 5' 10" and 165 pounds, seemed a veritable giant. A small physique, he knew, was almost an essential in space, where every ounce was bought at tremendous added weight in fuel. His own weight had been a serious strike against him. Colonel Gotch made one final trip to the space cabin. This time he brought the _Moon Code Manual_ (stamped TOP SECRET), the crew personnel records (Crag wondered why) and a newly printed pamphlet titled "Moon Survival." Crag grinned when he saw it. "Does it tell us how to get there, too?" "We'll write that chapter later," Gotch grunted. He shook each man's hand and gruffly wished them luck before turning abruptly toward the hatch. He started down the ladder. A moment later his head reappeared. He looked sharply at Crag and said, "By the way, that twosome at the Blue Door got it last night." "You mean...?" "Burp gun. No finesse. Just sheer desperation. Well, I just wanted to let you know we weren't altogether crazy." "I didn't think you were."